The Breton's Tale
by Trickett
Summary: Following the Cinematic; Seeing as the Breton Ranger is now dead, here is a story for him, his family and life and connections with the Spellsword. I started it after the first cinematic was released was able to expand once they put out the others! Will edit as needed. Thank you!


The Breton's Tale

"Tristyval." The Spellsword growled, he was leader of the Lion Guard and among the top officials within the Daggerfall Covenant. "The Lion seems to have strayed from his den." They were secluded, she too was alone out in the Cyrodiil wilderness. But who held the advantage? She was capable, and so was he. Curiosity led the Spellsword to simply watch him from afar for now. Both were far from their territories and equally terrifying on the battlefront.

A thundering rumble in the distance drew closer until a figure was made out from it. A horse and rider. Messenger? An agent?

The rider was a young woman, early to mid-twenties with dark auburn hair that fell in light waves down to her lower back. She had dark tanned skin, but the Spellsword could practically -feel- the Breton blood coursing through her. A mix, it appeared. Her piercing blue eyes scanned the surrounding wildlife and looked to her lap. She was followed by another unoccupied black stallion that was familiar to the Spellsword, Tristyval had always been on that particular steed when they encountered each other on horseback. The Breton Knight made his way to meet with them, then picked up, much to the Spellsword's surprise, a child from the woman's lap.

"Daddy!" The child squealed, giggling loudly as the young boy was held close to the Breton. The mixed woman dismounted, kissing the Breton's cheek and leading the two horses closer to them. She was shorter than even most Bretons, barely making it over Tristyval's shoulders on the tips of her toes. Tristyval may be taller than most Bretons, reaching only a head shorter than most Nords, but this woman could easily pass for a child who had not quite made it into adulthood had it not been for her matured features and bust.

"You're difficult to run into, dandelion." The woman smiled, but then her gaze turned abruptly toward where the Spellsword was hiding the moment she shifted her weight and snapped a twig. Tristyval too, turned toward her.

By the Divine...

There was only one option. She'd have to show herself. The Breton was a marksman beyond compare and the woman with him was unknown to the Spellsword and could easily be just as skilled as Tristyval. She was hoping, the child's presence would gain her some chance at mercy from his parents.

The mer stood and gave a cautious smile, Tristyval stepped back with the child and the mixed woman was now armed with an ebony great sword. Had her life not been in danger, she would have laughed at how adorable the tiny woman was with such a large intimidating weapon that was handled with absolute grace, "I don't intend harm." She wasn't lying, before the woman and child arrived however she would have been...

"You're far from your territory, Dominion." The woman's words were more as a mother cautioning her child than an enemy spat. The way she stepped and held the great sword made the Spellsword's previous debate on laughter fade in an instant. She was from the Eich Reidh. Their distinct and effective combat style was hard to miss. She'd seen it personally twice, but thankfully had never been involved. The Eich Reidh were mounted combatants, but on foot were just as dangerous- if not more so. If they wished it, they could seize an entire city by supper.

"Of that I am aware, but I don't see you allowing my return, Horse Master."

"Lenny!" The child shrieked, trying to squirm from his father and arms extended out toward the Spellsword. She looked at the child in stark confusion. Only people of dearest importance to her knew her nickname and even then used it sparingly. She didn't know any child of her enemy.

"Amaan... You know this woman?" the Horse Master asked her son.

"She's the lady I told you about, mommy! Don't you remember?"

"Of course, sweetheart, how silly of mommy to forget!" She gave her son a warm smile and turned back to "Lenny", her vibrant eyes now darkened and her face grim. "Come with us."

Tristyval had placed the child up on the ivory mare and looked at the woman in surprise.

"Echna! She's Dominion!" He growled, taking Echna's wrist and turning her toward him, he asked her something but his words were too faint for the Spellsword.

"It's nice to learn your enemies have life and love that they fight for too, other than only remembering your own. Can you cast aside the war today, she-elf, and come with us to my people- we are having a party today?"

"I- don't want to intrude? It would be beyond a disadvantage for me to head full on into Covenant territory for a party that could easily be a trap."

"You won't be in Covenant territory. My people are aligned with High King Emeric yes, but our nomadic set up currently lies about an hour from here- out of Covenant territory. If you don't attend, I could simply kill you instead and I think you'd rather want to spend a few hours relaxing than the rest of eternity dead, ey?"

"It seems my choice has been made for me."

"Let's go, mama!" The child whined, her sword sheathed back against the ivory mares side.

"Be calm, my love." She mounted herself behind him as Tristyval mounted the black steed. "You have a horse near, I assume?" The Spellsword nodded and whistled for her mare that arrived swiftly at her master's call.

"It's an odd sort of pleasure to meet you, Dominion." The woman smiled at the Spellsword, "I am Echna Valar-croft, first child to the Great Ahearn. You already have met my husband, Tristyval. This little one is our son, Amaan- he's already met you many times, but you haven't met him."

"I'm four!" Amaan piped, holding up four little fingers for the Spellsword to see. Echna smiled at her young boy and kissed his cheek.

"You're growing so big on me, my young Love." The Spellsword couldn't help but smile, Amaan was an adorable child. He was of course a mixed race, just as his mother. Breton and Redguard seemed most likely. Both had tanned skin, and shared the same bright eyes. Amaan inherited his father's facial structure and light hair, though there were hints of red in his short locks.

Tristyval was reclined back between the Spellsword and his family on the bench with his arms crossed over his chest and a knife gripped in his left hand that only the Spellsword could see, glaring at her from the corner of his eyes. He wouldn't trust her and had good reason not to- she'd tried to kill him many times now. All unsuccessful, of course, and all embarrassing failures. The Spellsword valued her life, however, she was now in the heart of enemy territory and they all knew exactly who she was and how to fight her. She'd have been better off accepting Echna's offer to kill the Spellsword earlier than to try anything here and now. At least then it would have been one Eich Reidh... Now there were at least thirty armed and cautious.

"I am Tarlene Stormire." She gave Amaan a playful grin, "I can't put my age on just my fingers!" Amaan giggled loudly at this.

"That's ok! I know how old you are!" He shouted, hushed to speak softer by his mother a moment later.

Tarlene looked over the child in further confusion.

Tarlene would confess, outside of his armour and all cleaned up, Tristyval was a catch - for a Breton. He'd changed into a dark red shirt and black trousers, a small chain with a silver wedding band hung around his neck was now exposed. Echna had changed into a floor length blue dress accented with gold, her auburn hair had been loosely pulled back behind her and wore a matching necklace but with a much smaller ring that had a brilliant sapphire in its centre and an emerald on each side.

Echna had offered Tarlene an emerald floor-length dress that made it to her knees instead of the ground. Seeing as Echna made it just above Tarlene's elbows, it wasn't much of a surprise.

Tristyval was settled on a low-backed chair across from Tarlene and Echna who were settled back on the large cushioned bench, watching Amaan play with his pony and gazing over Echna's newborn brother while the people of Hearth continued their wild dance and joyous singing.

Tarlene held the child awkwardly, she never wanted kids- they were cute in short spurts though. She smiled awkwardly at the babe and he began to scream. A nurse snatched the newborn from her and rushed the child inside to be tended to by his mother now that he'd been upset so terribly.

"Daddy!" Amaan shouted, tugging at his father's sleeve, "Jump the fire!" He pleaded, his finger feverishly pointing over and over toward the bonfire where a large group had collected now that the sun started to set. "Daaa-!" Amaan tugged harder and Tristyval looked over to his young son.

"We have to wait, Amaan. The Ahearn has to cross the fire first, it was his son born." Tristyval pulled his son onto his lap and the two watched the bonfire preparations.

"It was so fun watching you jump when Amaan was born, dandelion. Wouldn't mind seeing that again soon..." Echna hinted casually, a small blush raising on her cheeks and fiddled with the belt of her dress. Tarlene couldn't help but give a small laugh at her embarrassment. Tristyval had been so absorbed in his son's ramblings that he had to do a double-take to register what Echna had said. He had a mixture of surprise, joy, and confusion on his face.

"R-Really now?" He stuttered, a smile still apparent however. Tarlene caught Echna give Tristyval a sly wink but said nothing. The wink being enough to widen Tristyval's smile.

"The Great Ahearn!" A kinsman shouted, the famed Ahearn himself stepping from his home dwelling and heading toward the fire, turning the attention of everyone toward the brute man. Tarlene stared at the Redguard in awe, he was massive in stature and his presence was simply imitating. To think the small, soft woman next to her was his child amazed her more. Echna gave a loud cheer for her father and Amaan tried wiggled himself from Tristyval's lap, attempting to race off to his grandfather.

"Amaan!" Tristyval caught his son and pulled him back. "Stay with me for now, my boy." Amaan looked between his mother, father and the bonfire helplessly.

"Watch grandfather jump, then daddy can." As Echna finished, drums began to rumble and the Ahearn shouted words of strength and prosperity to his men. Amaan was restless as he watched his grandfather intently, Tristyval struggling to keep his son in his lap and from getting too far or hurting himself somehow.

Tarlene watched as the Ahearn began to run toward the fire, taking a mighty lunge and clearing the bonfire. The ground shook ever so slightly with the impact and accompanied roar from the Kinsman who surrounded the Ahearn. She wasn't sure what this meant to these people, but it obviously brought them great joy. These people were wonderful to put it bluntly, and then Tarlene truly realised it- she'd be on the frontlines against these joyous people possibly tomorrow at the soonest. That was Echna's aim and she'd done a great job hitting her mark.

Tarlene was sitting on a bench with the Great Ahearn's daughter, in Echna's own gown, drinking fine wine and laughing happily with the people who lived here. Tristyval had at least become kind enough to not constantly glare at her and put away his knife. Echna was treating Tarlene as if she was an old friend she'd spent years telling girlish secrets to and Amaan apparently knew her better than most of the soldiers under her command did. All people of the Covenant.

"Why can't I jump, daddy?" Amaan whined, earning a small giggle from his mother. Tristyval looked to his wife for help and she waved him to explain why to their son.

"Well, Hm- it's because you're only four. You aren't old enough to bring other warriors into the Reidh yet." He looked to his wife who nodded and urged him to continue, "Warriors who aid the Ahearn cross when their child is brought into the world or bring great honour to the Reidh through a noble action, it's seen as another great beginning."

"Can I have a baby so I can?" Amaan asked, looking between his mother and father who both visibly paled. Tarlene held her sides as laughter exploded from her.

"No, Amaan, you're far too young and I'm not prepared to be a grandmother at twenty-four. Wait until you're older consider children."

"But that'll take forever!"

"No, it won't, my baby. It feels like yesterday I was holding you in my arms for the first time, but now you're four!"

"Time goes by faster than you think, Amaan. Try not to grow up too fast on your mother and I." Tristyval gave his son a warm smile that was returned by the young boy. This family... They were an essence of happiness.

"Time isn't part of Coldharbour though, daddy." Echna's head snapped up at her son, and Tristyval looked at Amaan in what the Spellsword believed was a form of terror. Amaan didn't understand the concerned gazes of his parents, and instead began jumping gleefully on his father's leg that the Spellsword had once ran a blade through and pointing at his grandfather, "Come on, daddy!"

"U-uh, right." Tristyval put his son on the ground and stood, Amaan running off the moment his feet made contact. Tristyval gave a familiar look to his wife and headed off toward the bonfire and his son.

"Not again." Echna whined, slamming her head back into the wall behind them, Tarlene looked at her in slight worry. Coldharbour was something of nightmares, not a topic a child brings up lightly and then carries on about other non-essential things.

"Why, exactly, does your son seem so... passive to the topic of Coldharbour? And know me..?"

"Amaan is very... unique. Even before he was born it was dangerous and complicated carrying him because of his strong aptitude for the arcane arts. Now, he's plagued by visions of the future and is already adept in Restoration and Conjuration based magic. Do you know how frightening it is to find your two year old with a flame atronach looming over him in the dead of night?" Echna sighed and took a sip of wine, "Over the last few months he had been telling us of an Altmer woman with red hair and a stern face, you. Tristyval and I thought you to be just his childish imagination until last night. He was screamed for Tristyval, we found Amaan in a mangled mess of sheets and books in the middle of his room sobbing and Daedric scrawling on the floor around him. My son dreamed a necromancer of Molag Bal stole Tristyval's soul to Coldharbour and took his body as a puppet. You and a Nordic man had been present when this took place- will be present when this takes place. Amaan woke up this morning as if nothing happened, and when he saw Trist, Amaan touched his father's lips and said "these scars will heal after she saves you", my uncle has studied and aided Amaan to keep his abilities from harming him in any way, but I fear it won't be enough." Echna had burrowed her face into her hands and huffed, "I'll either lose Trist temporarily or permanently, I don't know. But our son is seeing this. His first memories are nightmares and I fear I'll lose him to these visions. They'll become too much and hurt him."

Tarlene wasn't sure how to respond... It explained everything, but it was difficult seeing a happy, strong mother break down in such a way. Tarlene knew what it was like to be powerful, even from a young age, in the arcane arts. It was dangerous. It was terrifying. You could lose control and destroy a village, or summon something beyond your control... The arcane was no laughing matter, and this boy was far stronger than Tarlene had been in this age. "What do you intend to do?" She finally asked, garnering Echna's attention again.

"We refuse to try and alter his visions, good or bad. He's aware that what he dreams really happens so we don't bother lying to him about it. We don't know what to do... My uncle tutors him daily, we comfort him and teach him the best we can. That's really all we can do."

Echna buried her face into her hands and huffed.

There were stomps and cheers for Tristyval and another man, Echna peeked up. Tarlene, enthralled by the scene before her, scooted forward on the bench. Amaan was now perched on his grandfather's shoulders, calling his father and another man's name. Tristyval stood across the fire from his son and father by law, the man next to Tristyval was crouched low as a predator about to pounce its prey, he looked like a mangy lion with wild blonde hair and a large beard that was braided in various manners. The Ahearn shouted and the Lion Man sped forward and spun over the fire, landing on his hands intentionally and springing himself further from the fire and onto his feet. A very flamboyant man, Tarlene figured. Despite his mangy hair, he was well built, tall and handsome- as well as a mer, or at least half of one. Tarlene must have looked enchanted for Echna patted the Spellsword's leg and laughed. "His name is Evangar, he was bought off a slave market by one of my grandmother's Nord guards when he was a babe. He's brought honour to our clan recently by saving many of our kinsmen and their families from an Ebonheart raid... But he has not taken a wife or given the clan a child, if that interests you." Tarlene gasped at the small woman next to her and then laughed. How easily she'd forgotten the bitter war and set herself into moderate ease among this nomadic clan.

The stomping and roars from the clan grew louder than they had been for Evangar, Tristyval now where the mer had been, crouched, but not too low to seem as animalistic as Evangar had. Tristyval made his way forward at the Ahearn's call and flipped over the bonfire, granted he had not been as flamboyant in his landing but his strides and movements held much more grace.

Everyone cheered for both men and Echna pulled at Tarlene to follow her.

The two women closed in on the group, Tristyval making his way to Echna and embracing her. "My Love." He began to whisper something foreign to Echna's ear and she responded with a small bit of laughter and kissed his cheek.

"Evangar!" Echna called, parting from her husband and waving over the blonde.

"My lady?" The blonde bowed lightly, moving his gaze between Tarlene and Echna.

"I would like to introduce you to Tarlene Stormire. A friend and talented spellsword. Tarlene, this is Evangar, a noble warrior of the Eich Reidh. You two get along now!"

Echna disappeared off with Tristyval soon following the quick introduction between Evangar and Tarlene.

Amaan was playing with a group of children off in the distance supervised by two argonians.

Everyone was in high spirits and Tarlene let herself relax further and tagged close behind Evangar- the two went over everything; hopes, dreams, passions and hit it off, leaving out nothing but her allegiance.

"Echna." Tristyval grumbled, he knew it was almost over. His vision blurred, his heart beat faint, and his body ached.

There she was- in her favourite blue dress and smiling at him. His true Love. "Echna."

"Tristyval..." The voice wasn't that of his wife- the Spellsword, Tarlene. Tristyval looked back up- his vision began clearing slightly, enough to see his wife was indeed not present, but the Spellsword was.

He could feel his soul fighting the Daedric possession, but he knew it would only be over by his death.

With what little strength he had left, he passed his broken blade to Tarlene, she would deliver the news to his wife and son. And be the one to free him.

A nod of understanding and he was freed.


End file.
